Page 85 of The Perfect Wrong
“You’re too hard on yourself, Chris. This isn’t the kind of thing you should bottle up, but if you want to—I get it. I won’t tell a soul. Nobody ever has to know.”
He nods so slowly, his green eyes piercing the city below like he’s searching for a piece of himself he left behind on that mission so far from here.
“You’re not a bad man,” I say.
“Aw, hell. Now you’re just kissing ass,” he growls. I’m so flipping happy to see a ghostly smile. “I can’t keep my hands to myself. They were already on you before the nightmare, weren’t they? Fuck. I damn sure shouldn’t have been touching you like—”
“You woke up when you needed to. It’s not like you would’ve killed me in your sleep.”
“No.” His face falls. “But I don’t trust myself in this bed with you, woman.”
He moves closer, facing me again, breathing me in like my scent is the one thing holding him up.
What the crap is going on?
Am I having a real moment with Chris Triton?
“I’m gonna try crashing for a few more hours on the sofa in the other room. At least for tonight,” he says, walking away from me. “I’m not shitting up this trip for you. You want me to feel better, it’ll only happen when Iknowyou’re having fun.”
My heart flips over.
I want to reach out, drag him back to me, and take my chances as he paces to the door. But I can’t when he’s making this much sense.
Just when I’m about to crawl back into bed, he stops and looks over his shoulder.
“And princess—thanks. I don’t say that often enough. You’ve made my life interesting.” He snorts softly and shakes his head again. “Also, I think you’re the only woman I’d trust not to toss me out of her bed after freaking out like I did. It’s a damn good thing nothing else happened between us.”
“Yeah.” I nod, not hesitating to agree, even if every last impulse protests violently.
If only his trauma fit repulsed me like he thinks.
I watch him pad away and shut the door behind him. The Vegas lights spill through the open blinds, my only company with a truth that scares me.
Seeing this moody, hurt, bleeding Chris only makes me want him more.
How long can I keep denying it?
At least he has an honest excuse for the way he practically wound up on top of me in his sleep.
How freaking long until he’s not the only one who can’t keep his hands to himself and I throw myself at this heart-thief of a man?
10
White Knight (Chris)
Whatever else I am, I’m a man of my word.
The next day, I grab Delia by the hand after breakfast and lead her outside. Come hell or high water, she’s going to have some fun, and my shit willnotruin it.
Damn good thing I’ve had plenty of practice with tactical driving. I navigate the Vegas traffic with ease, heading for decent parking along the main drag with all the casinos and attractions worth visiting.
I don’t say another word about my nightmares last night.
My dick also doesn’t care about my brain catching up to the fact that I had Delia in bed with my hands all over her.
I held her. I smelled her. I touched her.
Until I lost my shit, I had her so deliriously close, who the hell knows what might’ve happened if I’d woken up much gentler with my lips on her neck.